


Changing of the Guard

by NuMo



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8951782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuMo/pseuds/NuMo
Summary: Ficlet - no Patrician can rule forever, no Commander of the Watch can command forever. Here's how the Changing of the Guard could go.





	

First there had been fire, and then there hadn’t. 

Nawar remembered to this day. She’d been so small, but oh, she remembered. She’d been so afraid – the shop had been on fire, her mother had screamed, her father and brother had been frozen in shock and fear, and then the door had exploded just as the window had, and someone had thrown something over the fire, it had stunk a lot, and sizzled, and then the fire had been gone. 

Things after that were a bit blurry, with a lot of shouting, and packing up things, and not sleeping at home, but among all the terror that these things will hold for a three-year-old who doesn’t understand Morporkian, several things had stood out. 

A sergeant made of stone, who had given her, during that long night when Father paced and Mother sobbed and Janil scowled and Nawar couldn’t sleep, a smooth round pebble with a simple, crude carving of a diamond, “to hold on to, for come-fort.” She still had it in her pocket; it had never let her down.

A captain in shining armor, who spoke her language and knew her name and smiled at her as if nothing in the world could hurt her while he was on watch.

The grizzled old man who had put out the fire with his coat, who had been so angry, but everyone said not at her, so that was okay.

And a sergeant with long blond hair, a brief but friendly smile, and a very businesslike and competent manner. 

And the feeling of being safe even though she wasn’t at home, even though so many things were wrong, even though Father and Mother were so worried.

She’d known then what she wanted to be when she grew up. 

~~~

A smile tugged at the corner of Nawar’s lips when she thought how much Mister Vimes probably hated this. Dress uniforms, with a lot less gilt than during his time, but definitely still too much. Bright colors and shiny boots, pomp and circumstance. As a duke (and no longer Commander of the City Watch), he wore something else today, obviously. But from where she stood, she could see the stoniness of his chin, and knew that he hated it, alright.

But then the Watch had grown steadily, in size and in importance, and the swearing in of a new Commander had to be done publicly, in the light, for everyone to see. And that meant a level of peacockery that only Ankh-Morpork was capable of.

It was good that Commander Carrot would step down and retire to the country near Copperhead where he’d grown up. Vetinari’s successor was certainly able, but he could never be as good as he truly was, with Commander Carrot casting the large, regal shadow that he was casting. He needed freedom. He needed people to not look for that tiny little nod of approval from the Commander of the Watch. Vimes, Vetinari and Carrot himself had agreed on this – not something that happened every day, for sure. They had agreed, and in turn that had made the city’s civic leaders (as usual, Nawar gave a little huff of barely disguised contempt at the thought of them) agree, that there should be a period of three years to ensure a smooth transition, not just for the city to switch from one ruler to another, but also for the City Watch to switch from one Commander to another. 

Those three years would be over today. 

The assembled ranks of Ankh-Morpork’s finest, its highest and mightiest, and behind them everyone else really, filled the Plaza of Broken Moons to overflowing. Everyone wanted to see this very last, very public appearance of the man Ankh-Morporkians knew to be their king, even if the knowledge was in many ways, and many minds, subconscious at most. Everyone wanted to know who the new Patrician would appoint as his successor; a secret that had been kept extremely securely – a feat which had greatly angered Ankh-Morpork’s civic leaders (huff), and had greatly enriched Ankh-Morpork’s bookmakers, many of whom had occupied the Plaza for the past two weeks in order to ensure front row vantage points.

Nawar and her fellow officers straightened as a commotion at the Maul signaled the arrival of the Patrician’s coach. She chuckled softly as fanfares started blaring, and Vimes’ jawline set in an even more disapproving line.

When John Smith* got out of his carriage alone, a murmur rushed through the crowd like a large tidal wave. _So the new Commander must be already on the podium!_ You could see the thought grasping hold, in the motion of heads turning towards where Carrot already sat, two rows of officers behind him that most people had dismissed as nothing but an honor guard. Now these officers were being subjected to the intense scrutiny of the Ankh-Morpork street crowd.

Nawar started to sweat slightly in the face of so many faces turned her way. She could feel the diamond pebble in her pocket, a reassuring weight against her thigh.

She didn’t really follow the proceedings – a public ceremony was much like any other, anyway. Her eyes roved the roofs of the houses that bordered the plaza, roved the faces around the podium and on the podium, searched for any hints of suspicious activity – she was a copper, after all, like her brother in Gebra. A fact that made her father proud, and her mother worry. 'To protect the innocent' - she had sworn she'd do this even before she'd known that there was such an oath. And she had seriously prodded buttock ever since then.

She almost didn’t hear the pre-arranged signal. Almost made the ceremony stumble when she almost didn’t step forward. Almost didn’t get given the Regalia of the Commander of the Watch. Almost didn’t cause the biggest uproar that Ankh-Morpork had seen in decades. 

Commander Nawar Goriff, of the City Watch, Ankh-Morpork, grinned as she shook John Smith's hand. 

The future looked bright.

**Author's Note:**

> * not the vampire. Count Vargo “John Smith” St Gruet von Vilinus had gone back to Uberwald quite a while ago. No, _this_ John Smith had appeared as if out of nowhere, had risen to be Vetinari’s advisor quite, quite quickly, and had been dubbed his successor even more quickly. No bookmaker had made a lot of money off of _that_ one. They also had been wrong about his projected life span, and lack of success. Mysterious John Smith looked set to be just as successful as his predecessor, and no-one had predicted _that_ , except of course his mother.


End file.
